


Screaming At The Top Of My Lungs

by nationalnobody



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Muke - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 23:45:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2169906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nationalnobody/pseuds/nationalnobody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every night it’s the same thing, you bring home a new girl or boy and take them up to your room and I just sit there on the living room couch, curled up into a ball with my hands pressed to my ears, trying to block out the provocative sounds that come from upstairs, from your room, from where I so desperately want to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Screaming At The Top Of My Lungs

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my fic folder for a few weeks and I just realised I never posted it, oop.  
> Also, if you hadn't noted by now, I can't write summaries for the life of me.

Why do you not realise how much you mean to me? You keep bringing home others like they belong here, like they belong in your arms. They do not.

It’s killing me to see you acting like you don’t even care. Are you aware of what you’re doing to me? Part of me thinks you are but I also feel as if you don’t even care enough to bother with me anymore.

Every night it’s the same thing, you bring home a new girl or boy and take them up to your room. Calum and Ashton shake their heads before heading out of the house or to their room and I just sit there on the living room couch, curled up into a ball with my hands pressed to my ears, trying to block out the provocative sounds that come from upstairs, from _your_ room, from where I so desperately want to be.

Why do I let this happen to myself? Why do I not leave when Calum and Ashton do? Why do I insist on torturing myself in this way? What is wrong with me?

* * *

Whimpers. I cannot tell whether they are my own or one of Michael’s _friends_. It isn’t fair. I tell myself that nearly all the time but it _is_ fair, it’s his life not mine.

I’m no one special to him, I’m just his band mate. I don’t get to decide who he has a relationship with, even if it’s only ever a one-night stand.

I’m not the one who gets to lay with him or even _cuddle_. It’s come to the point where Michael isn’t even up for cuddling anymore, he’s always using sorry excuses saying things like ‘I’m busy’ or ‘I’m not in the mood’.

It stings, it really does; to know that Michael doesn’t even have a moment of his day to spare and talk to me. I used to find myself wishing for long cuddles and possibly kisses but nowadays it seems all I ever wish for is a conversation, a five minute long conversation.

I’ve come to decide, on my own of course, that it will never happen. Michael avoids me like the plague, probably even more so.

* * *

I tried so hard to ignore the noises but it seems there’s always that one noise I can never ignore, no matter how hard I try. That guttural groan Michael lets out when he reaches his high, it’s  _so_ …

I hastily snapped myself out of my reverie and sat up properly on the couch, switching the television on and putting on some random channel, pretending to be entranced by what was playing when in reality I hadn’t a clue about what the show was talking about.

I could hear Michael and his _companion_ heading down the stairs and towards the door. Inwardly I cursed my luck, why was he using the front door? He never uses the front door.

I ignored Michael, opting to simply stare blankly at the television. I heard him say a clipped ‘thanks’ before shutting the door quite promptly. Part of me hopes that Michael will return to his room and not talk to me and another part of me is desperate to have a conversation with the older boy. To hear his talking voice and not some automated response he just gives out on impulse.

“A documentary on sea otters? Really Luke?” His voice pierced through the air and was registered by my brain within a millisecond. I was so nervous I was shaking; I hoped he just thought it was because of the cold.

“Sea otters are actually pretty cool!” I blurted out, not really knowing what else to say. The only thing my mind was screeching at the moment was; _please don’t go, please don’t go, please don’t go._

“Thought you liked penguins.” He replied wearing that stupid smirk.

“Likes change over time.” I stated as I stared straight at him. I’m not sure if something happened within those few moments, whether he realised something or not but after the words left my mouth he seemed sad almost.

“Maybe…But you seemed to have liked penguins so much. It’s kinda hard to believe you’d get over them that quickly…” Michael was toying with his fingers now, staring at the carpeted floor.

“I just don’t have that connection with them anymore. It was gradual drift.”

“Is there any way to form that connection again?”

This conversation wasn’t about penguins, it was about us, but the two of us were too fucking cowardly to say anything and so we danced around each other. Tossing weirdly-structured sentences at each other in hopes of finding the answers we needed.

Oh how nice it would be to find the answers we both so desperately needed.

“I really don’t know…but I think, I think part of me just can’t let them go that easily.” I whispered, wringing the hem of my shirt.

Michael smiled sadly at me and I swear it felt as if my heart had been taken out of my chest and thrown into ice cold water. “Mikey?” I said tentatively. I hadn’t used that nickname of his for months and it felt so foreign yet so right when I had said it.

“Yeah?” He finally replied, voice so quiet I barely caught it.

“I-I…If you stop br-bringing home other people then maybe, then maybe…” I couldn’t finish my sentence. I physically couldn’t. My eyes were beginning to well up with tears and I didn’t know what was going on, it seemed like all that pent-up emotion was finally pouring out in one big mess.

“Are you crying..? Luke?” Michael asked, the worry in his voice was so evident. It made that little flower, which was still holding on in a field of wilted waste, bloom. Though my heart was prepared to trust again, my mind sure wasn’t.

 _Don’t get your hopes up Hemmings._ A constant reminder; I chose to ignore it this time.

“I-I’m sorry!” I hiccupped. Michael walked over to me and ruffled my hair before lifting my head up, “Don’t cry. I love you.”

Everything stopped. My heart, breathing, time. _Everything._

“What? You-You love me?”

“Of course…You’re like one of my best mates…” The way Michael had said it, so unsurely and hesitantly, it made me want to rip my hair out. We were right back at it again.

“Michael I’m sorry.” I started and I decided that it was now or never.

“Wait what?” Came his confused replied.

“You might love me as a friend but I sure as Hell don’t love you as a friend.” It was as if my words had physically scalded him for he moved back so quickly as soon as I had uttered them.

“You hate me?” He said and he seemed so sure of himself. I chuckled grimly, how ironic it was.

“Far from it. I love you and not ‘best-mates love’. I mean in love. I’ve fallen in love with you. I’ve _been_ in love with you for so long now. It fucking hurts so much when you bring home other people and I just…It’s not about penguins or sea otters, it’s about _us._ Why? Why do we always do this? Ever since high-school, we just don’t know what to do.” It was word-vomit and I just couldn’t stop it but it felt so good to let it all out.

Michael had stilled and stared blankly at me for a few moments before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around me. I felt my stomach knot up and the tears started up again.

“Luke, you idiot! Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I only ever slept with them to try and get rid of my feelings for you. Didn’t really work out though.” He mumbled the last part, cheeks stained a pretty red.

I couldn’t make out much of his face as my vision was blurred by tears but I could see the way he leaned forward and licked his lips. Catching on, I did the same. And when Michael pressed his lips to mine, for the first time in a few months I felt that I was alright. That everything was going to be alright. That _we_ would be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ kik me if you want: shmu.


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